Be My Heartbeat
by Shenzuul
Summary: The rain torments Soul. His world is crumbling away in his arms, and he doesn't know how to save it. Oneshot.


Rain poured from the iron gray sky. It was an icy, penetrating rain, which worked its way under umbrellas and through layers of thick, supposedly waterproof clothing to thoroughly drench those unfortunate enough to be caught outside in the downpour. There was no fighting the chill, which seeped through skin and bone to freeze the very core. And the sound—not the normal rhythmic pattering of raindrops on the cold cobblestones of Death City, but a loud, constant roaring, like a waterfall—a sound which drove even the possibility of a future without misery out of the mind.

Soul wasn't sure if the roaring in his ears was the rain, or his own anguished heart crying out.

He knelt in the center of the flooded street, soaking wet, dripping almost as much as the malevolent storm clouds overhead. He hated the clouds, hated the rain. He hated the inch-and-a-half of water in which he knelt, and he hated the dark buildings that loomed all around him. He hated the generic street, so like any other less-traveled road in the city: dirty, ugly, barren. He hated the damned moon, laughing somewhere beyond the damned rainclouds, bloody teeth bared in a heartless grin. He hated himself.

He hated that this horrible, disgusting, cold, nameless place was where his meister was going to die.

He cradled her broken body in his rain-drenched arms. Her hair, torn free from its signature twin ponytails, was plastered against her face by the water. Her eyes, only half open, were dull, glazed over with pain and exhaustion. Her lips, once set in a firm line of determination, now remained weakly parted as she struggled to draw air into her tortured lungs. Her fingers, just minutes ago clutching her Scythe as she expertly swung him through the air, now dug into her palms, fighting the agony by adding new pain.

Soul glared at the source of his meister's suffering. The black rose bloomed as he watched, sweeping open its velvety petals to welcome the cruel rain on its evil face. Its thorny black vine plunged down into a hideous wound that split the center of Maka's chest. Red, red blood stained Maka's white shirt and whispered through the water that pooled beneath her. Too much blood—Soul was losing her. _Damn it, he was losing_ _her! _What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't lose her! No! _Maka!_ His entire body trembled violently.

"Soul. You have to pull it out," said a weary voice, barely audible over the roaring in Soul's ears. Soul forced himself to raise his hate-filled eyes and focus on Stein, who was dragging himself toward Soul and Maka. Soul felt not a drop of concern for the professor, who was seriously injured, possibly maimed. Stein had failed them—he had failed to protect Maka, Maka, the only one who mattered. Soul made himself concentrate on what Stein was saying. _Pull it…pull it out._

"I can't," Soul rasped. "I'll kill her."

"If you don't," the professor countered, almost as hoarse as Soul, "that thing will take not only her life, but also her soul."

A particularly vicious shudder racked Soul's body. He looked away from Stein, down into Maka's face. The life was quickly draining from her. Could he do it? Could he do something that would almost certainly cause her death, in order to save her soul? Could he live with himself after, knowing that in the end, it was his hand that had taken her life?

He placed his left hand on her chest, over her heart, and slowly wrapped his fingers around the vine, letting the thorns tear into his flesh. The answers didn't matter. His life, his soul would be worth nothing once Maka was gone. All that mattered, here and now, was that he did everything that he could for his meister. That was his duty. That was his purpose. Slowly, carefully, Soul pulled at the vine. It was vital that the roots come entirely out. The plant resisted, burying its thorns into the edges of Maka's wound as Soul drew it out of her. Maka gasped in pain, which sent icy daggers into Soul's heart. Grimly he continued his bloody task.

Maka had precious little time left. Soul was taking too long. He clenched his jagged teeth and carefully set Maka onto the cold, wet street to free his other arm. Struggling to keep his hands steady, he slid his fingers into the wound, along the flesh-tearing vine, until he found the tips of the roots. They clutched something soft and warm that vibrated against his fingers. He knew that feeling. He forced himself not to flinch away. He was feeling her soul. Somehow, when he had reached into her, he had not brushed her heart but her very soul.

How was he supposed to make the damned thing release her? If he just pulled it away, who knew what kind of damage would be done? This was a soul he was dealing with, and a soul that he knew very well. A soul that was precious to him. A soul that he…

There was a flash of heat between his fingers and Maka's soul. The black rose wailed, and its roots recoiled. Soul seized his chance. He pulled at the vine, and inch by painful inch it slid out of Maka's chest. Carefully, he pulled his hand out of Maka's wound. Roots exposed to the air, the rose burst into flames. Soul dropped it, and it sizzled, destroyed, on the flooded street.

Soul gathered Maka up into his arms. She lay still and silent, dead weight in his arms. Her rattling breathing had ceased. "Maka," Soul called desperately. "Maka!"

Suddenly, Stein was there, holding Maka's wrist. "No pulse," he said, just loud enough for Soul to hear. He examined the wound on Maka's chest. "It's actually quite shallow, though she's lost a lot of blood. Most of the damage was done to her soul, but it was enough to stop her heart. If we just had something to stimulate it…but there's no equipment, and I don't have the energy to jolt her with my soul," he finished. His voice remained as dry and matter-of-fact as ever, but had Soul been willing to look, he would have seen sorrow and frustration in the professor's normally calm eyes.

Soul ignored Stein. His whole world was cradled in his arms. It was a world that was crumbling to ashes before his eyes. He had one chance to save it, but he didn't know how. He didn't know how to start her heart again. He couldn't taunt her, as he often did to fire her up; she was beyond hearing. He couldn't jolt her directly with his soul as Stein or Black*Star might. He couldn't resonate with her in her current state. There was nothing he could do. He was powerless. His chance to save the world was slipping away.

Except. Except, there had been that moment, when he had been removing the evil rose from her body. He had made her soul flare. How had he done that? He had been desperate. He had been thinking that he couldn't lose her, no matter what. He couldn't lose her, because…

Soul was out of time. He didn't stop to think. It would have been wishful thinking anyway. He brushed a strand of soaked hair off of Maka's face, leaned forward, and softly pressed his ice-cold lips against hers.

A warmth. Deep, deep down. A fluttering.

Then a timid beat. A long pause. Another. Pause. And another.

At first, Maka felt nothing. She understood that she was being drawn toward awareness, but of what, she knew not. The dull cast to her eyes began to fade away as her eyes regained the ability to focus, but her confused mind remained unable to grasp what she was seeing. Slowly, sensation returned to her body. Coldness. Wetness. Fierce, burning pain in her chest. Light pressure around her torso. Something supporting her head and neck.

_Soul_, supplied her memory. _Soul? _she wondered. It took her awhile to understand. Ah, Soul. Soul was holding her. But…there was something more. More feeling returned, and she registered something soft and wet brushing against her forehead and cheeks. And…pressure…pressure against her…lips.

And suddenly she sprang to full consciousness. She was alive. She was in Soul's arms. And Soul was kissing her.

Maka's heart burst into a strong, rapid beating and she gasped. Soul jerked away from her and stared, stunned, into her now fully animated face. Maka drew in several deep breaths and began to cough. Stein snatched her wrist and announced, "Heartbeat strong and regular." He grinned. "If a bit fast."

Soul looked from Stein to Maka. Her coughing abated quickly, and a furious blush spread across her cheeks. Soul's expression of astonished joy melted into a pointy-toothed smirk. "Who knew I'd get such a powerful reaction from the cold-hearted Maka?" he teased. "Looks like even you find my coolness irresistible." The effect of his light-hearted mockery was somewhat ruined by the faintest of pink tinges that adorned his own cheeks, and the hand the clutched Maka's tightly against his heart. Maka mumbled something, and Soul leaned in closer to hear.

"Maka…" she whispered weakly, pulling one finger out of Soul's tight grip. "Chop." She poked the finger against Soul's chest.

Soul threw back his head and laughed. There was nothing amusing about the situation, but he couldn't help himself. Maka was alive, and definitely herself. The world was turning once more. Now, the rain didn't seem so bad. It mingled with the salty water on his cheeks and washed his pain away.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, I have heard of CPR. No more comment.


End file.
